


Summer Daze

by badtothebinding



Series: Mystery Man [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gap Filler, M/M, Season/Series 02, the dugouts, vague references to smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badtothebinding/pseuds/badtothebinding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian never wanted the summer to end. He had to admit, he had a pretty sweet setup going: he had a steady job at the Kash and Grab, even more so now that fuckin’ Kash had run out on Linda; he was training harder than ever for ROTC and getting closer and closer to applying to West Point; and Mickey was working at the store with him now, so he had an almost constant access to his… what? Fuck buddy? Boyfriend? Lover… gross. Anyway, he and Mickey were fucking… a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Daze

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of Mystery Man. Set in season 2 just after Chapter 3 of Mystery Man. You don't have to read the other works to get this one, but it wouldn't be a bad idea!

Ian never wanted the summer to end. He had to admit, he had a pretty sweet setup going: he had a steady job at the Kash and Grab, even more so now that fuckin’ Kash had run out on Linda; he was training harder than ever for ROTC and getting closer and closer to applying to West Point; and Mickey was working at the store with him now, so he had an almost constant access to his… what? Fuck buddy? Boyfriend? Lover… gross. Anyway, he and Mickey were fucking… a lot. 

Like right then, they were at the baseball field; one of their more frequent hangouts. The park was busy; swarming with families, and birthday parties, and kids running around, but there weren’t any baseball games scheduled today. After work, Mickey had led Ian deep into the shadows of the empty dugouts, shoved him onto a bench, and given him the best blowjob of his life. 

“Made it to third base, I see,” Ian couldn’t help but grin. Mickey gave an exaggerated eyeroll and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Ian was still grinning stupidly when Mickey stood up and grabbed him roughly, pushing him to the ground as he took Ian’s place on the bench. 

“Jesus Christ, Gallagher,” he scoffed as Ian took the hint and started unbuttoning Mickey’s jeans. “How about you shut the fuck up and put that mouth to good use?” 

“Sure thing, Coach,” Ian replied, before sucking Mickey off. Ian heard Mickey’s pained groan, but he chose to believe that it was because of his superior skill at giving head, if the tightening of Mickey’s fingers in his hair was any indication.

When Ian finished he pushed back up onto his feet and grabbed his backpack from the ground next to the bench where Mickey was already buttoned back up and lighting a cigarette. Ian tossed Mickey a, now slightly warm, beer from the bag and grabbed a second for himself along with his trigonometry notes. He settled on the bench next to Mickey and waved off the cigarette that was held out to him. Instead, he gnawed on the end of his pencil as he looked through the practice problems Lip had assigned him for the day. They sat like that for a while, Ian scribbling numbers in the notebook on his knees and Mickey smoking and drinking next to him. 

Ian paused, looking down at the boy lying face up on the bench. What were they, actually? He remembered a few weeks ago when Mickey found out that Ian had told Mandy about his “mystery man.” He had promised Mickey that his secret was safe with Ian, but what was there really to tell anyway? Were they even dating? Did fucking at work in the back of a freezer count as a date? Maybe in the South Side. 

“What are we?” Ian muttered quietly, then froze. Shit, he hoped Mickey hadn’t heard that. He peeked down again, grimacing slightly and met Mickey’s wide open blue eyes glaring up at him. He stayed quiet while Mickey swung his legs off the bench to sit up straight. 

“The fuck do you mean?” He growled, facing Ian dead on. 

Ian sighed gustily and squared his shoulders. Busted. He knew there was no going back now, so Ian instantly went on the offensive. 

“I mean, what are we? We fuck, we hang out, we work together, what are we?” he asked, waiting for Mickey to blow up and storm off just like he did when Ian tried to kiss him that first time. It seemed like every time Ian tried to bring up feelings Mickey would get pissed and run away. 

But the explosion never came. Instead, Mickey was sitting quietly, looking down at his boots kicking lightly in the dust. He didn’t look angry anymore, but thoughtful. Nervous. Ian waited. 

“What do you want me to say, man? I don’t know. I don’t really think about it.” Mickey said quietly, still not meeting Ian’s eyes. 

“Do you even like me?” Ian asked, suddenly self conscious. “I mean, would you even have noticed me if I hadn’t jumped you in your bedroom? Would you even give a shit?”

Mickey looked up finally, forcing a laugh. “Not notice you? You’re fucking kidding right? How could anyone miss the siren on the top of your head, Red?” He said, elbowing Ian roughly but faltering when he didn’t return the laugh. Mickey sighed. 

“Hey, man. Look, I don’t do ‘dates’ or ‘boyfriends’ or whatever…” Mickey paused and Ian’s shoulders slumped. “But,” he continued slowly, “I give a shit. I thought you knew that. And not just because we’re fucking, or because you’re Mandy’s ‘boyfriend’ or some shit. But you’re alright, Ian,” Mickey said. Ian gave a small smile. He may not have gotten the answer he was looking for, but it was closer than he’d ever come before. 

“I like you too, Mick.” Ian replied with his signature shit eating grin, then continued, always pushing his luck. “Y’know, Mandy’s been grilling me about the identity of the guy I’ve been fucking for the past two years…”

Mickey’s calm demeanor instantly hardened. “Not gonna happen, Gallagher.” 

“C’mon, Mick, you know she’d be okay with it. She doesn’t give a shit about me being gay!” Ian replied, standing up as Mickey started pacing the dugout. He watched as the other boy grabbed another beer and drained it, crushing the can and throwing it carelessly at the trash can in the corner. 

“I don’t give a shit about what Mandy would think,” he barked, and Ian knew it was a lie. “It’s none of her fuckin’ business, and you better keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, Gallagher.” 

Ian held up his hands in surrender. 

“Fine, Jesus, forget I even said anything.” Ian sat back down and grabbed his notebook, but he couldn’t concentrate on formulas and equations with Mickey looming angrily above him. He sighed, pouting, and pointedly ignored Mickey’s presence. An uncomfortable silence persisted, broken only by Ian’s scribbling and Mickey’s pacing. Ian was surprised he had actually stayed. 

He was concentrating so hard on not noticing Mickey that he didn’t realize right away when the dark haired boy sat down next to him until he felt the warm cloud of cigarette smoke wafting across his face. He looked up to see Mickey looking intently at the problem he was working on. Ian tapped his pencil against the page, waiting. Mickey met his eyes and flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. 

“You got those last three questions wrong,” he said offhandedly, and Ian did a double take. That was definitely not what he expected to hear. Ian looked down to the paper where Mickey was gesturing. They looked okay to him. 

“The fuck do you know about trigonometry?” He asked harshly. “I thought you dropped out?”

Mickey scoffed. “I know my fuckin’ times tables, asshole. Gotta know math to take book and deal drugs,” he continues with a shrug. 

Ian nodded, erasing the problem he was working on and restarting. 

“Yeah, I guess. So, wait, how is this one wrong?”

Mickey laughed, scooting closer and shaking his head. It seemed that their fight had been forgotten for now. The two boys spent the next half hour or so with their heads bent over Ian’s notebook; Ian writing out problems and Mickey making corrections as they went. They didn’t notice the passing of time until the sun started to set and the shadowy dugouts were too dark to see the page.


End file.
